Paris
by SpecialHell
Summary: Klaus Mikaelson meets an interesting boy in 17th century Paris.


_A/N. 1. Hello! So I'm back (again)! Jumping into TWO new fandoms at the same time! Also overusing the exclamation mark for some reason. Anywho, I'm not going to go on again about trying to be more active - one story every year is quite clearly not good enough, but I'm a WiP so I can make no promises. Hope you enjoy the story._

 _A/N. 2. I am fully aware that trousers in the early 1600s wouldn't have had pockets, but it was necessary for the story so just go with it. If you can accept vampires hanging out with musketeers, we can pull the invention of the trouser pocket up by about 100 years, surely!_

* * *

 _Paris 1605_

It always seemed to be raining when they came to Paris. Three times in the last two centuries, and each time it had rained. Klaus took a deep breath of the damp air. He quite liked the rain, truth be told. Aside from the aesthetic it provided to his artistic eye, rain also made people bow their heads. When the sun was out, people looked up. They took in their surroundings, and they could see a person with less-than-kind intentions coming. When it rained, people rushed for cover and paid no attention to those around them. Days like this made picking off a quick snack much easier.

Klaus' thoughts were halted by the feel of a hand at his pocket. He looked behind him in time to see a young boy, ten years old perhaps, looking guiltily back at him. The boy had Klaus' purse in his hand, and a defiant look in his eye; he wasn't afraid. Klaus couldn't help smiling at the boy, who looked like he fully expected to be struck at this point. Instead, Klaus leant down so he was at eye level with the boy and held up his hand.

"Two fingers," he said in perfect French, holding up his index and second finger to demonstrate. "Never use your whole hand; people can feel it." The young boy stared at him in shock for a second before nodding once to show he understood. "What's your name?"

"Porthos," came the quiet reply. Klaus smiled again and straightened to his full height once more.

"What a wonderful name. Porthos."

The boy seemed to quiver at the way Klaus spoke his name, from fear undoubtedly although he didn't show it in his face. Klaus held his hand out for the purse, and Porthos handed it over. Reaching in, Klaus took out three livres before handing the purse back to the boy. Porthos looked at it for a moment, as if this offering may be a trap.

"Until we meet again," Klaus admired the spark in Porthos' eyes for a moment longer; the boy refused to look away during the whole encounter. "Go," Klaus whispered when he hear the door to the nearby tavern creak open. "Now."

Porthos did as he was told; slipping away into the night as if he'd never been there at all. Klaus placed all that was left of his purse back into his pocket and smiled to himself. To still be surprised by human behaviour after 600 years was a rare thing.

(~*~)

 _Paris 1625_

June. Klaus would have to remember for next time; when coming to Paris, come in June. The night air was soft and warm, there wasn't a cloud in sight, and Klaus was enjoying the walk from his hunting ground of that evening back to the house they had taken over for this little holiday. Rebekah had been the one to insist this time. She loved the city, and neither Klaus nor Elijah had the heart to refuse her such a simple request. Considering his younger sister, Klaus' attention slipped momentarily, resulting in a collision. Strong hands came up to Klaus' shoulders, but the gesture was a friendly one, unlike Klaus' expectation.

"Woah there," a jovial voice came from the man currently holding Klaus, and the vampire looked up to see a set of startlingly familiar eyes. The frame was no longer scrawny, but well built and battle-tested, and yet those eyes bore the same spark. "You ok?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Klaus replied, smiling. The man whom Klaus was now certain was the young boy he had met some twenty years ago; Porthos, smiled back and released Klaus to stand on his own.

"Sorry… do I know you?" Porthos asked next. "You look so familiar."

"So do you," Klaus' eyes took on a wistful glint. "In another life, perhaps."

Porthos, who by this point probably thought Klaus a drunk, laughed softly before turning towards the direction he'd been headed in, tipping his hat as he went. "Goodnight, Monsieur."

Klaus didn't reply, but Porthos didn't seem to mind. He carried on his way, and Klaus watched him go. As Porthos turned down an alley, Klaus noticed the pauldron he wore before the soldier – no, Klaus remembered the symbol – the _Musketeer_ disappeared from sight.

(-)

Porthos found Aramis in the garrison courtyard. It was no surprise that he was cleaning his pistol at the table while he waiting for Porthos to arrive.

"Did you put Athos to bed?" Aramis asked, his head rising to shoot a grin at Porthos, who laughed under his breath. Aramis was clearly impressed with his own ability to sense Porthos coming, even after a relatively short time together.

"He's asleep," Porthos supplied.

"I hope you don't think I left him with you to scare you away." Aramis put his pistol down, and Porthos could tell from his expression that the other man was only half-joking. "It's just that he responds to you so very well. If I had tried to steer him off to bed, he would have fought me all the way." Porthos ducked his head and smiled at the praise. This eased Aramis' mind considerably, and he rose from the bench to face Porthos.

"I am going to put my weapons away, and then you and I can have a little drink of our own before bed." Aramis' childlike enthusiasm was infectious, and Porthos grinned in response to it. He watched Aramis leave before looking around the deserted courtyard. The feeling of being watched sent a shiver through him, but he brushed it off as his imagination and sat down to wait for Aramis' return.

From the shade of the garrison gate, Klaus watched the scene unfold. He didn't flinch when he felt a presence beside him, although he hadn't been expecting company.

"Have you found another plaything, Niklaus?" Elijah's smooth voice carried only to Klaus' ears. The wistful look returned to Klaus' face. He didn't look away from Porthos as he responded.

"This one is not mine to take."

Elijah's sharp intake of breath made Klaus smirk, and he turned his head towards his brother to see the look of astonishment on his face. It was not a sight often seen, and Klaus relished it in silence.

"That's not something I thought I'd hear from you," Elijah spoke with a wry smile of his own, and Klaus rolled his eyes at the unspoken accusation. When Elijah moved to speak again, Klaus held up a hand for silence. He pointed towards the courtyard, where Aramis was once again approaching Porthos.

Porthos stood as Aramis reached him, ready to offer his own quarters for the promised drink. Before he had chance to speak, Aramis pulled Porthos into a tight hug. Porthos hugged back automatically, squeezing Aramis a little when he felt a tremor run through the other musketeer's body.

"Hey now," Porthos whispered. "What's this for?"

"You are a good friend, my dear Porthos," Aramis replied, pulling back to look at Porthos as he spoke. One of Aramis' hands was on the side of Porthos' neck now, while the other gripped at his pauldron. "I don't know what we have done to deserve you."

"You accepted me," Porthos' reply seemed simple, but he elaborated when Aramis began to shake his head in dismissal. "You know who I am, where I came from, and what I've done. You see past that, to what I can be. That is all I could ever ask." Aramis smiled and gave a short nod; he could not deny such a heartfelt explanation, even if he felt unworthy of the acclaim.

"Come on," Aramis used his hand still at Porthos' shoulder to steer him towards the staircase. "Let's get that drink. The sun will be up before we make it to our beds if we're not careful." Porthos hummed his approval as he followed Aramis away.

Klaus turned back towards his brother, whose eyes were still focussed on where the musketeers had been a moment before. His eyes were soft, and Klaus knew that he too saw the echoes of the boys they used to be in the men who had occupied that space. Still lost in his own mind, Elijah finally spoke in hushed tones.

"Family above all."

Klaus smiled in response, resting his hand on Elijah's shoulder as he replied.

"Always and forever."


End file.
